


Them Among Us: Under The Colors Of Our Wings

by Congar



Series: Dust-Eaters AU [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congar/pseuds/Congar
Summary: This part of the Dust-Eaters AU is primarily written by Congar.





	Them Among Us: Under The Colors Of Our Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This part of the Dust-Eaters AU is primarily written by Congar.

“Keep your aura under control.”

“Y-y-es, sir.”

“That’s not helping.”

“S-s-sorry, sir.”

Iytgul, a tall and widely built man with a forehead more robust and weathered than a sun bleached piece of torn leather, flicked away the unruly nail he finally managed to bend off his hand using his lock pick tool. A smile was drawn on his lips, not unlike how a sharp nail is drawn on a chalkboard. It was the first one Drywa had ever seen dragged across her mentor’s face during the brief time, considering the years Iytgul’s been at the Watch, she’s spent under his wing.

_He’s good. He’s bad. He’s your friend. He’s your enemy. Fight him! Ask him! Beg him for help!_

It’s a comparison Iytgul’s derived much pleasure from without ever smiling to reveal it. “She’s the one with the bird-like form,” he’d always said with varying degree of irritation depending on the person asking. Ever since Drywa first stumbled into her internship she’s had the feeling that Iytgul’s taken her on as a means to stretch his legs more often.

Because he hates you! Because he wants to help you! Because he’s evil! Because he’s friendly!

“The chairs at the office do horrible things to my lumbar,” is the explanation Drywa was presented with when Iytgul suddenly waltzed in on her doing her studies for the Watch exam and asked, borderline demanded, that someone with a monster form shaped in the image of a bird present themselves to him. “They also have sensitive smoke detectors outside, so keep your wing hovering above my head while I smoke,” he finished explaining as Drywa asked why he needed a bird form for his underling halfway out the corridor.

_Mistake! He’s just using you! Be angry at him! Demand his apology!_

“Is your plumage working against you, Drywa?”

_Hug him! Cry on his shoulder! Bite it afterwards! Punch him! Ask him to help you!_

“No, s-sir. It’s under control f-for now.”

_Lies! Why are you lying to him? Why are you lying to yourself? Because you hate him! Because you love him!_

Drywa once prided herself with being able to change the color of her monster form’s feathers with each morning she woke up. One day she’d be bright blue, the other a dark forest green. So many wonderful hues. Iytgul was quick to figure out why though, but the reason didn’t sit badly with him. Quite the opposite, really. It’s an opportunity he’d never seen before, but had always thought about how it would manifest. He couldn’t tell it to her directly though. Something had to come up for him to bring the topic up as well. Not even when pressed by his superiors about the girl did he buckle. The guidelines for joining the Watch would’ve stopped Drywa from ever proceeding further than the written exams, so that he would burst in that day as he did was perhaps faith.

“Faith is what’s in short supply these days. That’s why the Watch is still a profession. All of our faith is spent on keeping the Masquerade alive,” Iytgul finally went around to telling Drywa a few weeks into her apprenticeship after he bought her a watercat with snail salad on top. Her plumage was yellow that day. Like a sunflower, with the same big black spot in the middle. She kept her wing above Iytgul’s head as he smoked his MTT branded cigarettes for the third time that day.

_Snails are disgusting! Snails are delicious! Cinnamon! Butterscotch!_

So maybe it wasn’t fate, come to think of it.

“If we had faith then there would be no use for us going around sorting what would’ve been believed to sort itself out. If we had faith we wouldn’t be called something akin to ‘Watchers’, but rather...something else. Maybe ‘Observers’? That has a less authoritarian ring to it. Observing is better than watching. You can spin that around more easily as something positive and constructive.”

_Ask him for a smoke! Berate him for smoking! It hurts your wing! Hurt him back! He needs it! Otherwise he can’t protect you!_

“What about hope?” Drywa had asked after some silent thinking with her face turned away from the smoke coming off of Iytgul. Keeping only one arm masqueraded was proving quite the hassle. Normally it’s just letting the disguise wash over, completely taking over, but keeping only a certain limb as a monster, with the rest human, proved difficult to her. Maybe it was just for Drywa that it proved difficult. Iytgul never told her if it was difficult for him. He’d demanded more and more that she’d do it despite her difficulties. It was Iytgul’s attempt to help Drywa focus her aura.

_He doesn’t understand! That’s why he’s forcing you! He does understand! That’s why he’s forcing you!_

Or at least, that’s what he told her.

_He never tells you anything! He always tells you too much!_

“Hope is different,” Iytgul said after throwing the cigarette on the rain drenched ground. His last cloudy exhale shone in the dimmed and blinking crystal light hovering behind him for a few moments before the rain absorbed it. “Hope is that the Masquerade won’t disappear, faith is that it’ll still work come morn.”

_They’re the same! They’re not even close! Hope! Faith! Hate! Love!_

Drywa halted her rubbing away of the gray patch on her arm created by Iytgul’s smoking. Her brow furrowed hard as she tilted her head over her shoulder as Iytgul passed her by. “Didn’t you just say the same thing twice now?”

_Yes! No!_

Iytgul stopped at the backdoor of the worn lodge the two of them were stationed on for the time being. Inconspicuous, like all other lodges. Just a normal building in a normal part of town, but just like the Masquerade hid the humans from the monsters, so did the lodges hid the operations of the Watchers.

“They’re different, but more similar than different.” Iytgul waved Drywa into the sparsely furnitured house before she got a cold. “The difference, albeit small in description, implies more than anyone can wrap their head around. We humans live on the line separating the two our entire life, so we can’t have an unbiased look at it. Tilt yourself on one side though, and...”

_Lies! Truths! What is living if you can’t be what you really are? What is living if you’re forced to live as something you don’t want to be?_

“How so?” Drywa asked curiously as she resumed her cleaning.

_It hurts so much! It’s fine! He’s done it for the last time now! Next time! Next time will be different!_

“Hope is what gives us humans a reason to wake up in the morning. Faith gives us reasons for disbanding the Masquerade, and living peacefully with the monsters as we did way back when.”

Drywa blinked. He just said that faith is what keeps the Masquerade alive, not what keeps it from existing in the first place.

_He’s lying to you! He’s been lying to you this entire time!_

Unless…

_You don’t understand! Trust him! He knows!_

“Took me a while to try and wrap my head around it too, kid,” Iytgul said after catching Drywa’s stone faced expression. “Faith is dangerous, but it’s also a blessing. An extension of hope. Hope mixed with trust, but you wouldn’t even trust your own parents with the Masquerade, would you, Drywa?”

_They abandoned you! They fled you! You scared them away! They couldn’t understand you! No one can!_

Drywa looked to the side, away from Iytgul. Away from him!

_You did this to yourself! You had no choice! Die rather than survive and be a parasite! Survive rather than die!_

“Or the parents that you told were yours. Giving them hope that their kid was still alive. Faith in that you were the relief they so much begged for? Their monster child, oh so innocent, died even more innocently. They’d never know about its faith though, would they? Not with it still, to them, being alive, playing in its room like its always been.”

_Mom! Dad! No, you’re not their child! Yes, you were! You’re not! You are!_

Drywa’s arms fell apart, left dangling off her shoulders as if strung up by cheap string.

_He knows! It makes him a threat to you! He knows! That means he can help you!_

“Along came you, Drywa, or whatever your real name is, alone and scared. Changing monster form is easy once you have some pure dust to get an entire new identity so you can toss away your old one, and here you’d stumble upon the biggest pile you’d ever seen. Easy as breathing, and breath in you did.”

_I don’t want to die! Where am I? Mom? Dad! Where are you? I’m dying! Help me!_

“I-”

_Who are you? What are you? I need to get back home! I need to get back home to mom and dad! I don’t want to die!_

“What I’m wondering is how you managed to convince the parents of the child you replaced that your plumage shifted color every single day? Something to do with puberty?”

Not all voices agreed, but there was a unanimous approval that Drywa would tell the truth. The loudest voice in favor was of the child she’d found dying underneath that fallen tree. It’d been quiet for some time now, ever since she ran away from her forced foster home.

Drywa nodded, her entire conscious weighing her head down.

Iytgul sat down on the worn sofa with his palms put together over his nose and lips. “I see,” he said before letting a thick silence hang heavier than the clouds filled with rain far above the house.

_I’m sorry._

“I’m sorry,” stumbled out of Drywa’s mouth after a long and grueling while.

“Was that you who said that, Drywa?”

She shook her head.

_You can’t understand! Help me!_

“How long have you had the voices in your head?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

“Do the voices allow you to remember for as long as you want?”

Again she shook her head.

“Can I speak to you alone, please?”

_Quiet!_

_He’s lying to you!_

_QUIET!_

_You need-_

“QUIET!”

And so it was.

Quiet.

For the first time.

How?

Iytgul’s forehead folded another wrinkle as he lowered it over his eyes. He motioned for Drywa to sit, and had to insist to get her to. After letting himself choose his words carefully again, he dragged a deep inhale. “The child, the one you took over for, was he in control when you used his dust and created your monster form in his image?”

Drywa nodded, harder than she ever thought she could. There was always a voice holding her emotions back, but now that she was free of them, she almost broke her neck.

“And the different colors you have now don’t get enough time to make themselves prominent?”

He’s right! He’s so right! Finally! Someone understands!

“Yes!” Drywa shouted, her head falling into her hands. “Yes!” she repeated, louder. Through the cracks between her fingers, tears started to build up, only to come crashing down onto the hideous rug underneath her.

“How much pure dust did it take before the child took over?”

“A lot...”

“Could you act as him before that? With only a small dose of his dust?”

“Y-yes?”

Iytgul stood up. “That’ll have to do.” He motioned for Drywa to put on her jacket. “We’re heading out.”

But…

Iytgul threw Drywa’s jacket across the room. It lands on her flinching head, and she finds herself underneath the heavy leather weighed down by the rain that’s yet to drain off it. After she managed to fumble it off her head she found Iytgul standing at the door in his monster form. “I’m sorry kid,” he said as his long rabbit ears folded down, “but we’re gonna have to hurry now. We should’ve already been in position half an hour ago, but I had to tell you that I knew about your colors before we headed out. Rain isn’t gonna do your form any favors too, I’m afraid. We need to hurry in case your voices come back.”

“To where?” Drywa asked after inserting one of her arms into her drenched jacket. She was still trying to make sense of it all, but the hurried tone in Iytgul’s voice was something brand new for her. All other thoughts disappeared as his commanding tone took control of her confusion.

“Your first mission.”

...

“We’re here.”

Drywa almost jumps out of her monster form as Iytgul pushes her back against the house wall the two of them have been sneaking up to. For almost an hour they’ve been dodging and sneaking across town to this address. The rain has been like needles on her feathers, but she still followed Iytgul despite many of her colors disapproval. It didn’t take long before they came back, not even a minute of running in quiet. Even the yellow voice, the one she’s wearing right now, is not enough to get her to stop.

Her current color stands out quite viciously against the purple stone works of the building her mentor slammed her back into. She just barely had time to tilt her head forward and-

“Our target is inside, Drywa,” Iytgul explains as he retreats his dark blue rabbit form from around the corner. His ears bend backwards as to not stand out like soar thumbs, or wet ears, in this case. “Inside this apartment complex lives a monster who’s been putting her nose in things that’s been endangering the Masquerade. She’s tried to sniff out some of the Watcher Lodges, and she’s gotten much closer than I’d like to admit. I’ve had to postpone this until you had the right hue. Now that you have it on you, we can continue.”

“H-how?”

Iytgul puts his hand on Drywa’s shoulder, and in doing so, shuts every voice in her head up again. It’s quiet again, more quiet than she’s ever experienced before today. The rain pouring hard around her is like a faint whisper compared to before.

How?

“Just go inside and knock on her door, and I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be waiting around the corner, so I won’t be far away.”

How…

“Drywa?”

What? “Y-yes?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

Did she…? Yes, she did. Only her, and none of the other.

None to tell her otherwise. None to change her mind. None to take it over!

This is her chance, hers alone, and she’s going to take it.

“Who is it?” comes a hesitant voice from inside the creaky door Iytgul ordered Drywa to knock on. Footsteps close in carefully before stopping abruptly. “Jerv!” A second after, several locks are unlocked from the inside. Drywa takes a step back as the door is swung open. “My child! Where have-”

Before the red turtle can embrace Drywa, before the worried eyes can soften, before the desperate smile can extend, Iytgul rounds the corner with his knife flashing in the poor light from the flickering light bulb hanging on a frail cord just inside the opened door.

He connects heavily with the turtle, pushing it into the kitchen while holding a sturdy hand over its mouth. “Close the door!” he commands in a harsh whisper to Drywa.

She slams it behind her as she rushes off after Iytgul and-

“What’s going on out there!” a slurred and angry voice shouts from down the hall.

The turtle’s quivering eyes shift to the side, further into the apartment. Iytgul follows them, still with his hand firmly against the turtle’s squealing mouth. “Shit! The husband!” he curses in another whisper. “Wasn’t he supposed to be out today? Dammit!”

“Gyrta?” asks the voice, on the very brink of lashing out. “Answer me!”

Iytgul looks down on the turtle, her fading eyes still quivering, but now locked hard on his own. Damn! Just give up! He won’t be able to kill this one in time before the husband comes around the kitchen corner.

And the door didn’t close properly either! All the neighbors will hear if Iytgul lets go of the turtle, and or when the husband comes into the kitchen.

Iytgul is not gonna have another incident on his hands! Not another! He’s already wasted his one chance! He won’t get another!

And neither will…

Wait!

“Drywa!” he whispers loudly at the terrified yellow bird cowering in the corner. “Come over here! Quickly!”

Before Drywa can hesitate, Iytgul shoots his ears forward. His hands are busy, so they will have to do. “Now!”

Drywa timidly hurries over.

Iytgul lifts his knife just a tad, causing the red turtle to jerk violently. He quickly sheaths his knife back inside the wound, and pushes his other hand harder against the turtle’s mouth. He nods down at the dust that’s spilled out.

Drywa can’t-

“You have to!” Iytgul whispers again.

Drywa looks over to the red turt-

“Don’t look at her! Look at me, Drywa! If you don’t do this, we both die. We’ll both be hunted.”

But-

“Just do it!”

The footsteps are just a room away now. “Gyrta...”

_No!_

Drywa throws her hand down, grabbing a handful of the still warm dust.

_Just like you did with me! Why again?_

“Gryta?” the angry voice asks the shadow moving closer to the kitchen door out into the hall.

“Yes, Huyt?” Gryta asks back while covering the view into the kitchen with her large red shell. “What is it?”

“I heard the door slam, and now it’s opened.” Huyt motions angrily at the almost crooked form of his front door. “Why is that?”

“I...” Gryta looks down. “I’m going out to look for Jerv...”

Huyt’s expression drains. “Gryta...” He reaches out for her, but she takes a step back while keeping her closed fist pushed against her chest. Huyt stop in his steps, letting his opened hand fall down at his side. “I understand,” he lies. “Will you be gone long this time as well?”

Gryta nods. “I will, Huyt.”

He steps in for an embrace, but Gryta takes one away from him. Her fist clenches harder as she looks away. “I’m sorry, Huyt. I can’t. Not when our son is still gone.”

Huyt averts his eyes, clenching them closed harder than his teeth. “I...understand,” he again lies. “Come back and visit if you find him...”

Gryta turns around with a step towards the crooked front door. “I’ll try...”

With sobs echoing throughout the apartment, Huyt drags himself back into a room further down the hallway. He closes the door behind him, but it does nothing to silence the pained wailing from inside.

_My husband… I love him. I have to back to him and-_

Drywa’s head snaps to the side.

No! She’s back in control now! She needs to! She can’t give it away once more!

_Huyt is the only one I have left! Where is Jerv? I saw him just a moment ago and-_

Quiet!

_Where are-_

“Quiet!” Grywa’s voice coughs out Drywa’s word.

...

It becomes so.

Drywa can’t believe it.

It became so...

She looks down at her hands. They’re rounded, thick, and made out of scales. Red like blood. The ragged breath she’s dragging aren’t with her own voice either. It is again of Gryta’s.

“Close the front door,” Iytgul asks of Drywa. “I’ll finish the monster off meanwhile so that you don’t have to see it.”

Drywa doesn’t even turn around to answer Iytgul. She walks over to the front door and shuts it close, making sure that it doesn’t bounce off the safety pin this time.

“You don’t have to watch me clean up either if you don’t want to,” Iytgul says as he leans his head out from the kitchen. Drywa stopping in her step is enough of an answer for him. He should give her something to occupy her mind while he does his deed. “You can change back now if you want. I don’t think the husband is coming out from that room for a long while.” He retreats his head back inside the kitchen. “And also,” he says before pausing for a sigh, “good job, Drywa.”

Drywa takes a step forward, but her curiosity isn’t worth it. She leans Gryta’s shell onto the hallway wall before closing her eyes to try and get her old form back.

“Name a color,” she asks to Iytgul.

There’s a silent beat between the two. Silence that’s loud enough to even drown the widower’s sorrow.

“Are you sure, Drywa?”

“Yes, I am.”

Another silent beat passes.

“Good to hear that, kid. Green. It’s my favorite. Dark green.”

“What happens when the husband do go out?” Drywa asks as she imagines her own monster form wash over her. A dark green hue to it, like an emerald. It looks good on her, and tomorrow she’ll make sure that she wakes up to it as well.

For Iytgul.

“Is he-” She’s interrupted by the sudden vacant space behind her as she begins to lean against the scraped wallpaper. She falls backwards, but catches herself on her dark green wings just in time.

“He’ll be monitored and some of the dust from the target will be kept for future use to convince him that his wife is still looking for their son. The rest will be used for mixed dust.”

“To help with our hope...”

The brushing from inside the kitchen stops for a second, “No,” before continuing, “to keep up our faith.”


End file.
